


michael moore & chill

by ficfucker



Series: seduction through true crime - a dogtruth collection [4]
Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: (kind of lmao), (mentioned) - Freeform, Blood, Choking, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, uhhh idk my usual bullshit lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: if you're trying to bone down, skip the political docs & slap on some ween





	michael moore & chill

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who requested dogmeat gettin choked

Marcus is, as self-proclaimed, a classy date, and if you can consider whatever it is him and Ben have got going a courtship, Marcus has worked it down to a science: drunken sexting on weekends, dates on weekdays but always pregamed with a movie or a video game session before diving into activities. It’s the polite thing to do. 

Marcus likes sexting a lot, almost most of all. He’s methodical with the photos he sends: propping his phone up and putting it on timed snaps so he can sit and pose, ruck his shirt up like a crop top and arch his back so his ribs push out, face usually cut from frame, but collarbones jutting, neck angled. He puts effort into it, gives Ben a good show. Cock peeking out between his thighs, teasing, eyes hit with light if he decides to show his face, elbows and knees bent to maintain good composition and balance. 

That  _ had _ been his favorite part of his and Kissel’s fooling around up until recently. They’ve figured out frotting some hook ups ago and now Marcus spends every minute not devoted to conspiracy thought or serial killer trivia daydreaming about the next time he’ll get to slide himself against Ben. 

Tonight is hopefully that time: him and Ben in his apartment, sitting on the couch with some Michael Moore documentary playing because Marcus let Ben choose the movie. That’s clearly chalking up to be a mistake, Marcus totally thrown off his rhythm with the political charge, not wanting to think about 9/11 or mass shootings and their drive by the government when he’s got plans to have his dick out as soon as the next opportunity presents itself. 

“Jeez, man, picked a fuckin’  _ bummer _ this time,” Marcus comments, shaking his head. He sips his ginger ale and glances over at Ben who is nursing a beer. He assumes if he complains enough, they can switch it off, turn over to some music or maybe a History Channel special, and Marcus can make his move. 

Ben snorts. “Yeah, figured maybe it’d act like a suppressant. You’ve been humpin’ me like a freakin’ dog for weeks.” 

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Oh, like  _ you’re _ complaining? You turn into a big quivering ginger puddle as soon as I get my hands on you.” 

Ben scoffs. “And what’s this? Foreplay to you?”

Marcus giggles and sets his drink down on the coffee table, worms himself over to Ben so he’s resting his head on Ben’s arm. “Do you  _ want _ it to be?” he asks in an exaggeratedly tinny voice, smirking all obnoxious, and Ben pushes at him playfully, swings an arm around him, and gets him in a headlock. 

“I want you to quit actin’ like I’m a-a-a  _ mattress _ and you’re a 13 year old who’s just figured out-"

"Oh,  _ whoa _ ," Marcus squeaks and suddenly he's discovered something about himself. 

"What?" Ben looks nervous, genuine concern etched over his face, his features drawn together. 

Marcus giggles and squirms out of Ben's grasp, gets up in his lap, not at all answering the question. He says, "Fuck Michael Moore. This is foreplay," and kisses Ben's throat. 

Ben puts one hand to Marcus’ back and leans over, sets his beer on the table before settling back in "If I've awoken something in you by comparing you to a 13 year old, I want  _ out _ . I'm not into age play or-or  _ regression _ or-" 

"Ben." 

"What?" 

Marcus gives a little bite, enjoys the way Ben stiffens beneath him. "Shut up." 

They kiss for a while, Marcus twined around Ben, trying his hardest to ignore the gunshots and sounds of protest coming from the television, worried if he breaks off to put on music, Ben will be dropped out of the groove. The big guy’s making small noises under Marcus, though, arms wrapped around his shoulders, making Marcus feel deliciously small in a way he doesn’t get to experience unless with Ben, so it’s probably a safe bet that they’re on a roll here. So Marcus kisses Ben and Ben pulls Marcus impossibly closer, hands on his slender, boney hips. 

“Comin’ up for air,” Marcus says, leaning back and exhaling. 

Ben squeezes him. “You know, I think we’re makin’ progress with you,” Ben remarks. 

Marcus’ eyebrows go together and he rubs a knuckle to his eye, lolls himself back, grabs his ginger ale. “What’s that?” 

“Been a whole half hour and you haven’t mentioned true crime once.” 

“Oh? Is that an invitation? ‘Cuz, shit, I could get on about some cases I’ve been researchin’ lately.” Marcus grabs the remote to the right of him and clicks on Spotify, selects one of his Ween playlists. “Like, uh, oh, we got… say, modern cannibalism cases. Been thinkin’ we could touch on that topic again. Like uh, there’s this guy who - he ate his kids  _ eye _ while cranked out on PCP back in like, ‘08-’09.”

“Not what I meant at  _ all _ ,” Ben says, sticking his tongue out, “-and hey, is this your  _ typical _ makeout playlist? If it is, I think I’ve gotta make some serious changes in my love life.” Voodoo Lady from Chocolate and Cheese is playing. 

Marcus grins and starts to shimmy in Ben’s lap, arms out, looking like an emaciated Stevie Nicks without a shawl, and Ben chuckles, shakes his head, muttering, “Oh, lord.” 

Marcus wheezes, takes a sip from his ginger ale, and sets it down again to tilt forward and hold Ben’s face with both hands. “Am I the  _ Lord _ to you, Ben?” he asks, teasing. “Has a nice ring to it. Lord Marcus.” 

With an eye roll, Ben says, “You’ve got acid rot in the brain,” and scoops Marcus up, lays him out on the couch so Ben is above him, and Marcus is filled with an excited warmth, eyes trained intently on Ben. 

“Gettin’ on with the show, I see,” Marcus says in a hushed voice. 

Ben leans down and kisses Marcus behind the ear, down his throat. “Well, yeah, because, not gonna lie, when you were ‘dancing’, you were like, totally grinding on my dick, and I gotta get moving before Ween kills what I’ve got going on there.” 

“I ain’t one to argue.” Marcus slips his hands down between them and starts to ruck off his own sweatpants, and Ben follows suit, pulling down the grey joggers he’s in. Ben’s got his pants down, enough that Marcus can crane his neck and see Ben’s tented underwear, and Marcus cups a palm over it, gives Ben a stroke through the fabric. 

“Let me get my pants off, Marcus, hold your horses.” 

“Takin’ too long.” Macus pulls down the front of Ben’s underwear, slips off his own, and raises his hips off the couch, brushes their cocks together, and they both groan in response. 

Ben wraps a hand around them both, jerks them slow as they slide together, and Marcus looks up at Ben, his face all scrunched and concentrated. Marcus wiggles and writhes, keeps his hips up to meet Ben’s thrusts, which are precise and even, not sloppy like how Marcus grinds. With a particularly tight squeeze of Ben’s fist, Marcus is making, even to him, embarrassing chitters.

“What’s the mood tonight?” Ben asks, voice low. “Got a submissive streak going?” 

Marcus “ha”s, mutters a sly, “You fuckin’ wish,” and slides his hands under Ben’s shirt, bluntly bites his nails into his back. 

“Well, uh, you’re  _ under _ me,” Ben notes, as if this is an astute observation, “and you’re making all those little moanin’ noises. Looks like you’re the quivering puddle this time.” 

“I’ll break skin,” Marcus threatens. He’s done it before: hands and mouth, much to the surprise of Ben, who had gasped and yelped “You fuckin’ maniac!” when Marcus had sunk his teeth into Ben’s thigh. It’d bled a good amount and Ben was a giant baby over it, but Ben had also shot off as soon as Marcus put his mouth on him, spurting cum over Marcus’ glasses, which was less than ideal. 

“I’ll…,” Ben starts, but his voice trails out into a dreamy gasp in response to Marcus rolling his hips in a new motion. 

“What’s that, Ben? Aren’t you going to offer something?” 

“This… is the weirdest hate sex I’ve ever had.” 

Marcus full on cackles and Ben makes a face, pulls his eyebrows together. “If you think  _ this _ is hate sex, just you  _ wait _ , Kissel.” Marcus rakes his nails down Ben’s back and leans up, using his grip on Ben like he’s a pullup bar, kisses him softly on the mouth. Marcus eases back down, his hair starting to stick to his forehead in dark smudging streaks, and he lets Ben move above him, drag their cocks together, feels Ben throbbing wetly against him. 

A minute later, Marcus says, “Choke me.” 

Ben snaps his head back, eyes wide. “What?” he pants. 

Marcus wiggles up, away from Ben so he’s sitting, and Ben shuffles back on his knees. “Just- Lie down, Ben,” Marcus instructs, and Ben, obedient as ever, lies back on the couch. Ween is spewing Baby Bitch from the television. Marcus saddles up so he’s straddling Ben’s thighs, their cocks pressed together, and he takes Ben by the wrist, bowed forward, and curls Ben’s fingers around his throat. “Now this part, Ben, should be easy.  _ Squeeze _ .” 

A noise gurgles from Ben, his face all red, and he croaks, “Marcus, I’m not gonna  _ choke _ you-”

“I can take it,  _ jesus _ , man, when’d you get  _ vanilla _ on me?” Marcus rolls his hips and Ben shudders beneath him, his hand still limply clutching Marcus around the neck. 

“If I hurt you-”

“You’re not gonna.” Marcus tilts his head down and drops a wad of spit between them, foamy drool sliding between their dicks. 

With great hesitation, Ben slowly applies pressure, gets Marcus to grin down at him, sliver of his top teeth showing, and Marcus nods, drops both his hands between them, jerking himself and Ben in tandem. Ben groans and his grip tightens, much to the excitement of Marcus who squeaks out, “Harder.” His head is already swimming but he can breathe quickly through his nose and for him, that means Ben hasn’t gone far enough. 

“Marcus…,” Ben protests, but he gently complies. His stomach is tightening beneath his shirt, clenching and releasing, and Marcus knows, from that and by the way his cock is leaping in his hand, he’s going to cum soon. 

“ _ Harder _ ,” Marcus pushes. He’s been choked in the past, by ex girlfriends and himself, but Ben’s hands are truly unmatched; the perfect size to seize Marcus like he’s a doll. His thighs tremble. 

Ben squeezes, hard as he can, and sputters, “Oh,  _ Christ _ , Marcus…!” as he cums, getting it over his thighs and Marcus’ lower stomach, and Marcus lolls his head back, as if attached to spine by ball bearings, eyes closed, and cums, too, unable to even moan or whisper, dribbling over in his hand, down onto Ben’s shirt. Ben’s grip falls away, both of them panting like dogs, and he holds Marcus by the hips. 

Marcus pushes some damp hair out of his face and smirks down at Ben. “See? Told ya you weren’t gonna hurt me.” 

“Quiet up there or I’ll strangle you for real this time,” Ben yawns, prompting Marcus to lean down and lie against his chest, which is kind of gross since they’re all sweaty and sticky and haven’t bothered wiping up, but Marcus has done acid with his head in a toilet, so the bar is low. 

“Sounds like a good time to me, but I’m not sure I can get it up again that quick.” 

Ben wraps his arms around Marcus, the cuddler of the two, and rubs his back. “Next time, we’re testing out one of  _ my _ fetishes.” 

Marcus snorts. “If you want me in lederhosen, I’m  _ not _ indulging you.” 

  
Ben chuckles, pats Marcus on the ass. “No, but that’s a  _ wonderful _ idea, Marcus, thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. cannibalism case marcus mentions is a real one; happened in 2009 & can be found on the wiki of 'list of incidents of cannibalism' 
> 
> 2\. chocolate & cheese goes hard
> 
> 3\. michael moore's doc: fahrenheit 11/9 is excellent & i recommend it 
> 
> anyways, bang out some kudos/comments if you enjoyed this, burn me at the stake if you didn't 
> 
> suggestions are still welcome 
> 
> cheers & hail yourselves 
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


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